


A Hat and A Bell

by Limeicepop



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Invisible Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Its moomin, My First Fanfic, One-Sided Attraction, Past Child Abuse, Snufkin is a season spirit i guess now, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has a Tail, Snusmumriken | Snufkin is a Cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-05-02 09:37:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limeicepop/pseuds/Limeicepop
Summary: A hurt child is brought to Moominhouse by Too-Ticky when she found them on a path, invisible by all but a bell snugly fit on air.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Buddies I'm not sure where im going with this story

It was a sun filled day in Moominvalley, pleasant air wafting to and fro, trees swaying oh so softly in their parting for a small child.

Too-Ticky held the air's hand, gently guiding them through the valley, waving at friends.

Mr. Hemulen, Snorkmaiden, Sniff, Little My, Moomin. Steps climbed to Moominhouse were made, the air never letting go of Too-Ticky's hand, and the door knocked upon by gentle hands.

The air held on tight to her hand as she lead them inside, to Moominmama and Moominpapa, their gentle voices and inquisitive looks swaying layers of decit and mistrust.

The invisible child lead here by Too-Ticky didn't trust the Moomin family, they barely trusted Too-Ticky herself. They simply had nowhere else to go.

"Why what's their name, Too-Ticky?"

"I don't know Moominmama, they were mute when I found them."

"The poor child must have nowhere to go, they can stay here until they become all better. Our guest room is free, no one has visited in quite a while you see."

"Thank you Moominmama, I'll be best on my way now. Take care."

And then Too-Ticky was gone.  
The bell on the air's neck jingled as they flinched from Moominmama, jingled more as they fled out the door into the world outside.

They couldn't trust adults, not again.

The world was bright, and Mama's vocie could be heard inside, pleading for the unseen child to come back.

The world looked so nice and pretty and nothing like what adults told of.  
No monsters,  
No fire,  
No burning sun,  
Or freezing cold,  
Moominvalley was just so pretty.

\------------

The moon danced the sky, swirling her tears to make the stars.

The child found themselves loving those stars, their sleepless eyes staring with wonder.

All invisible but a bell snug on air, the child sat all of dusk and into dawn.  
They couldn't sleep at this strange house, not if they could be hurt the moment they blinked.

Mama came to wake them at 8, child made a note of that time, waiting to see its punctuality.

Breakfast at 9. Little My shouted at them, and they found tremors running up and down their body, up and down and up and down.

9:30, Breakfast was over. Little My and Mama's child, Moomin, went outside to play. The child of air refused to join them.

No one knew whether it was polite or rude, Little My got a strange feeling from this child.

She would interrogate them later.

She never did.

Lunch was at 12, Moomin and Little My came back, they also brought back Snorkmaiden and Sniff. Child didn't seem to like Sniff, they avoided him a lot.

Everyone went back outside to play, once again inviting the child, once again being denied.

This piece of invisible air, bell snug around their neck, was simply contemplating all day.

Should they tell Mama their name?

Should they tell their gender?

That child could read and write, oh yes they could, but what questions would follow them if they revealed that?

They didn't want to answer their questions, didn't want to recount what multitude had been done.  
They couldn't do that, not at all.

Dinner at 6.

Bedtime at 8.

\----------

This continued for 2 months, it was getting to be autumn

Although not exact, the schedule that the child recorded was followed.

Little My will poke her fun at breakfast and dinner, though her eyes showed her concern with their lack of visibilty.

Moomin would invite them to play, being denied everytime.

Snorkmaiden's attempts were apreciated the most though, her flower crowns would rest on their head all day, and all were kept.

The child decided that it was about time they wrote their name though, and so they did just that.

The next morning at breakfast, the little child of air and bell came with a piece of paper and pencil. Only one word scrabbled on the top corner, Snufkin.

"Is this your name child?" Mama had asked, the small jingle of a bell could only confirm.

"Could you tell us more about yourself, Snufkin? It would be lovely to get to know you," had came her gentle reply.

By lunch the moomin family had learned a few things about their new friend Snufkin.

They were a boy around Moomin's age.

He played the harmonica.

He only knew his father.

He was a mumrik, which meant he had paws and a tail. Similar to moomins but not as big.

When Snufkin had finally gone to bed after wishing the moon and her tears goodnight, a green hat of embroidered gold rest on his head.


	2. Running up Lonley Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siblings found each other guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and I don't know what plot is

Little My knew that hat. Little My knew that name too.

Snufkin

She should have known. She should have seen it sooner. She should have been there for her brother when she heard his name from that silly piece of paper.

Snufkin 

She should have known.

She watched as Snufkin was flocked by Mama and Papa, cooing over his hat and its golden embroidery.

She watched as his bell rung from his trembling, watched as he ran outside.

Watched as small flickers of water land on the floor from his tears, running out of the house and off the porch.

Little My could only watch, and then she could only run after her family as best she could.

\---------

The creek and mountain air hurt Snufkins lungs, pushing and pushing forward to places he didn't know, forward to the only place he knew.

He shouldn't want to go back there, but did he have anywhere else?

That Too- Ticky had only led him here.

To this burdened valley.

With air too rich and people too nice, surely they wanted something from him?

He could hear My running and running after him, and he was no fool. He knew she was his sister.

But family were demons who only wanted to maim and hurt, he would not slow down for her.

Not ever.

And he didn't.

But he did pass out, and Little My did catch up.

She dragged him back to the valley of too rich air and too nice people, picking up his fallen hat of golden embroidery on the way.

 

Little My could only cry as she blocked Mama and Papa from getting close to her family, dragging him gentle up the stairs and into the room he didn't sleep in.

She could only block the door and curl up next to Snufkin, her only good family.

She bared marks of her own too, after all.

\-----------

The Moon and her tears danced the sky, waltzing constellations, and ballrooms of galaxys.

Snufkin watched them, tears running down invisible flesh, down bags unseen and scars hidden.

Little My slept on his lap, their earlier conversation long and fresh in his mind, marks of her own scarring his maimed mermory.

Mymble wasn't any kinder than Joxter, apparently.


	3. Oh What a Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little My is bonding with her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I'm so tired but feeling so creative, so I'll do a chapter a day till I'm burned out.  
> Peace!

The night with her Moon and tears had shone upon the siblings, calm and asleep in the other's arms.

Tears running dry down their faces.

Limbs entangled and sweaty.

No, they would not have this any other way then how it was now.

Little My was curled in Snufkin's lap, small and cozy, arms wrapped around her brothers waist.

Snufkin hadn't felt warmer that how he was now. His sister curled with him and the Moon with tears smiling down upon them. His hat of embroidered gold rested on the table of the room, bell tied around the rim, making him invisible.

Invisible child, weeping once again, oh so softly, why must the world be so bright? Invisible child, trembling in the dark, gasping as their voice would never work, visible or not. invisible child, not sure if they will ever be seen. It was so close, winter raining down, oh why had he not gotten better yet?  
Snufkin knew, he knew, that Mama was becoming disappointed with him. He just could never seem to get better, would he ever get better?

He doubted it.

He closed his eyes, he needs to sleep.

Glaciers blue of something unbridled watched him from the back of his mind.  
No, he couldn't sleep.  
Not tonight.

\------------

Morning sunshine shone with the sweetness of honey. Oh, how Mama always loved early morning sunshine.

Oh, how Snufkin hated early morning sunshine.

Mama had woken him at 8, like had become schedule,gently retying his bell and hat, and promptly drug him down the stairs.  
Guess today he had Breakfast Duty, go wild-berry picking with Mama.

Oh, how Snufkin hated early mornings with Breakfast Duty.

Little My simply must go with him if were to endure this.  
That little gremlin couldn't simply keep sleeping if he were woken. No, she would go with him.  
Whether she wanted to or not was out of question.

It was berry picking time.

 

Little My honestly could say she was surprised, dragged out of bed by a floating bell to go berry picking was not normal.  
Well, she thought, now it was normal, huh. Snufkin clearly felt the need to show her that as she was lifted to his unseen shoulders, baskets swung the air.

She could say without surprise though, that she was already a little fond of her new brother. If he were visible, she was certain the smallest of smiles would be on his face.

She really hoped he got better soon, she could hear him crying all night.  
She was so going to kill the one who made him unseen, she really hoped he got better.

Little My just wanted to see her brothers face.

Was that too much to ask?  
Apparently so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin gets to be happy

Breakfast that day was full of suprise, when Little My and Snufkin had moved their chairs right next to the others.

Little My didn't want to quite leave her new family all alone yet.

Snufkin was willing to put small trust in his new sister, but only little trust.

Neither had noticed his floating paws picking up food and forks.

Mama and Papa had noticed though, and they were delighted, their poor Snufkin was getting better.

\-------

Snufkin had finally joined Moomin outside today, and Moomin could honestly say he was bursting with joy.

Snufkin went outside!  
To play!  
With other people!!

Moomin was happy, almost taking Snufkins new paws in his hands to drag him along.

Almost.

He had learned to not touch Snufkin first, it seemed only My could do that for now, and sparringly too.

Snufkin remained near the back, trailing along with the rest infront of him.

One of Snorkmaiden's flower crowns rested on his hat of embroidered gold.

Poppies and marigolds today, a splash of white roses and forget-me-nots one the right side.

Snufkin knew the meanings of the flowers on his hat, Snorkmaiden seemed to not know.

How pitiful.

Poppys meant sleep, peace, and death

Marigolds meant cruelty, grief and jealousy

White roses meant innocence and humlity

Forget me nots meant what they are called. Don't forget me.

Snufkin was unsure of his dear friend's message, but he had a hint of her greif and pity for his situation.

She didn't want him to be forgotten when he got better, and she wanted him to be able to move forward from his unknown horrors.

Atleast, that's what Snufkin thought she meant. Best to be wary.

His paws faded a little.

\--------

The ocean was vast, black and peaceful.

Snufkin knew why he found the large body of water calming, and he knew that this place was beautiful.

Never had he seen water so big, water so black.

He let a smile slip on his unseen face, tears running down from invisible eyes.

He sat there all day with Moomin and his friends, watching the water and finding seashells.

His paws came back, and so did his feet.

Barely.

Snufkin decided he would try to sleep tonight, he hoped the eyes were gone from his subconscious.

He closed his eyes, as they walked back home for super.

He closed his eyes and saw only his eyelids.

No glaciers of blue filled his mind.

Snufkins smile grew bigger, tears becoming fatter.

His mind was free for tonight, joyful hope filled his chest, could he truly be free?

A flash of blue, his hand stiffened on Little My's, he was not truly free, but he took his temporary relief all that he could.

Little My squeezed back, oh how he was starting to love his new sister.


	5. Night time, thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin is monolouging guys

The night was full.

The moon and her tears were luminous, casting shadows upon shadows in the valley.

Trees and shrubs painted in mazarine, dancing across the ground as they sang with the wind's whistle.

The grass ghostly white, glowing and glowing in the light of the sorrowful moon, swayed and swayed to the tree's and shrub's dance.

It was so beautiful, Snufkin had thought, oh how everything here is so beautiful, it's starting to unnerve me.

It was the first day of hibernation for the moomins, and Snufkin was left to be awake all winter long, oh how mean! He knew that he couldn't hibernate, mumriks simply don't do that.

He would have gone with Little My and her sister, but they were going to the Mymble. Snufkin would rather die than take his chances there with the Mymble and Him.

Snowfall would be coming soon, if not tomorrow, and everything was becoming deathly cold. Snufkins arms, visible in their right, curled around him.

Clutching at the nightgown Mama lent him, his clothes were visible along with hands, arms, and feet.

He body was still invisible, his voice yet to recover.  
Scars white like the grass in the sad light.

Moomin had yelped when he had seen Snufkin's arm for the first time, had ran to get Mama.

Snufkin couldn't be found for the rest of the day, why must everyone make a big fuss over scars?

His scars were beautiful, if he needed a word to describe them. Spiraling across his arms, looking almost like vines for budding flowers, covered in thorns.

Whip scars.

The thorns were his scars upon himself. But no one needed to know that yet.

Winter this year will be dreadful, it will be too cold too quiet. No nest of furs or warm fire.

Snufkin was away from there this year, awat fron everything he knew. Away locked away in some unknown valley with strange too kind people with too sweet food.

Snufkin wasn't sure if he liked it here anymore. Sure he has made progress with his body. He could sleep at least three nights a week now. He could eat meals without getting sick.

But it was just too kind too sweet to be real, it was starting to scare him.

What did the moomins have up their sleeve? Were they going to hurt him later? Kill him? Toss him out? He wouldn't mind the last one much. But it scared him regardless.

He had become dependent on the moomin family.  
He hated it.


	6. Not a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its not a chapter guys

So, title and summary says it all, this isn't a chapter.  
I just wanted to thank all of you for the love and support you have for my story.

Sorry I haven't responded to all of your comments but Ily so much~

Have a great day, next chapter will be out soon!

Here is a sneak peak of the next chapter!

'He hated that man, Snufkin hated him with all of his body.

With every scar and every burn,

Every single mark,

His clothes,

His life.

He hated that man with all he had.

With all he could.

He needed to get out of this house, out of this valley.'

Have a great day! (Again)


	7. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys i don't know what plot is but this is going somewhere trust me

Two weeks into winter.

Its been two weeks.

Snufkin was sure he'd lose his mind before two months into winter, mumriks just don't stay in one place to often.

His bell jingled on his invisible neck as he walked down the stairs of moomin house.

Again it was night, again he couldn't sleep.

Tears streamed down unseens checks and down unseen skin, sliding on the golden bell of hanging air.

Again glaciers blue of something unbridled hung in his ming.

He hated that man, Snufkin hated him with all of his body.

With every scar and every burn,  
Every single mark,  
His clothes,  
His life.

He hated that man with all he had.  
With all he could.

He needed to get out of this house,  
Out of this valley.

He hated that idea and he hated himself for hating it.

This valley was full of people too nice with food to sweet and air to rich! Surely they want something, anything, from us.

Surely they want something right?

But Snufkin also knew that he was only here because there was no where else.

He knew of no where else except for Joxter's house.

He was not going back there.

Never again would he go back there.

The kitchen was empty of food, he had already eaten all the food laid out for wakings of sleep.

He needed food, he needed it bad.  
He had to go outside to get it.

Go hunting, I say, go hunting oh go hunting I will die without food.

The winter winds dawned a new day as snufkin jumped out his window to the ground.

The soft snow of winter death cacooned him as he fell, suffocating in its numbing.

The snow was too soft too warm for winter snow. Its was everything Snufkin expected it to be in a valley like this.

The forest lied ahead of his eyes, his escape and his source of food.

Glaciers blue blocked his mind, blocking his eyes.

No.

No no.

Its wasn't real it couldn't be real. He was away oh so far away. He couldn't go in those woods.

He went to the fields. Rabbits lived there he knew how to cook rabbits.

It was ok, it wasn't real.

It was just Snufkin's imagination.


	8. All that was the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin can't be happy yet guys, but soon.  
> Soon will the Snufs be happy

Winter in Moominvalley was 4 months long, starting in late November and ending at the beginnings of March.

It was late January, Snufkin was going to starve to death. That he knew.

At first, the warm snow of early winter death wasn't so bad. Snufkin would go out, catch some food from the river or plain, and then he would go and cook it.

Not one foot or paw was set in the forest, it was just too much.

The real problem really set in around the new year, too many animals in hibernation.

Snufkin was sure to starve to death, oh how he knew this valley of too sweet food and too rich air would kill him.

He was sure.  
He couldn't keep living like this, his arms were long gone from visibility and his bell no longer made sound.

Snufkin was truly a mute now, and death watched on for when to take this child away.

Death watched the mumrik, watched him day and night.

Watched his body quiver from unheard sobs, paws scratching unseen limbs.  
Watched him loose all he had built, sleep slipping from fingers like sand.

Death watched as he hadn't the strength to break the ice on the river. He hadn't the strength to make it to the fields.

Death watched as he saw the truth on Snufkin's eyes. Now all one could do was watch.

All that was left was the forests.  
Filled with glaciers blue of something unbridled.  
Filled with fear and the man that made Snufkin scarred.

Filled with memories of something Snufkin didn't want to remember, couldn't remember not now.

He was on death road from winter to spring. Waiting and waiting as time grew shorter along with his life.

Watched as day became longer along with his fears.

All that was left was the forest, all that was left was his road of death.

And thats where he went.  
To his fears off of death road, running and running he could only do this quickly please oh please may he not be caught.

Please oh please may the forest not be his own death road, seperate and cunning as days and fears grew longer and taller and sharper.

All that was left was the forest.


	9. Food is not always wanted when starving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks are no bueno kids :(

Snufkin watched the forest, dense with trees of unspoken tales.

He watched for movement, watched for something bigger than rodents.

Watched and waited.  
Watched and waited.

The sun sank lower and lower, shadows growing taller and taller.

Time was slipping away, like sand in his paws.

Snufkin watched and watched, nothing stirred. But he could hear it.

Breathing, he could hear breathing. He could hear all the little mice and squirrels breathe as they scuttled.

He could hear that other breaths too.  
He would not go in there, but that didn't mean he left either.

He waited for that man, that mumrik, to show himself.

It was midnight when Snufkin finally went home.

He shaking, shaking, shaking!

He couldn't breathe his lungs wouldn't work it's too tight the place is too small memories the memories wouldn't go away every whip every belt every knife, kick, bruise, blood, cuts, he could feel the wildfire on his body the burns, the scars, the sheer force of His hands.  
He could feel all of it.  
He couldn't breate.  
Snufkin couldn't breathe.  
He couldn't scream or shout or cry for help run away, say anything!  
He couldn't breathe.

Say something.

The world was black.  
Mazarine so dark it was past midnight, going deeper and deeper.  
Was this sleep?  
Was it death?

Snufkin hoped it was the latter.  
This hellhole was something he never wanted to see again.

\-------

A carcass laid outside of Snufkin's room.  
A squirrel.

Joxter's scent covered it, yet no mark on his body.

It was so much worse than death by starvation.


	10. The Forest with all its Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers! I just wanted to say thank you for your patience and love for this story. And also sorry I was gone for a while, I went camping out nowhere and had no data.
> 
> I tried to make this chapter a little longer so enjoy!

Snufkin stared at the carcass.

He stared, and he stared some more.

High noon with sweltering flies was what made the mumrik move, if he let decompose the moomin family would indefinitely know.

Flies flew to and fro, what kind of valley had flies in winter?

A breath was drawn, and the two more before the little mute bell of silent air bent down, and picked up the carcass.

It reeked of iron, what a horrible stench, it definetly was from Joxter.

In Snufkins empty room, with empty drawers and empty screams, sat the the invisible child.

He sat, and he stared.  
Then he ate.

Large ravenous bites, blood threatening to drip to the wooden floor. Iron increasing tenfold, Snufkin could only feel fear.

Joxter was here, in this valley.  
He knew that Snufkin was starving.

He was trying to make Snufkin dependent, he was trying and Snufkin wouldn't fall for it.

Snufkin knew he ought to leave soon.  
Leave this valley of air too rich and food too sweet.  
People too nice and breezes too soft.

He knew he should have left before he arrived, but what was he to say?

He could not but even utter a word! What being could hear invisible words like his?  
There was no being who could hear him!!

No Mymble or Mumrik, nor Snork or Hemulen, no Moomin or witch or Fae or Fairy, none!

None could hear him for when he would be dragged back to a place of no warmth!

A place where the sun doesn't dare touch nor where winter leaves, there is no summer or changing of season no warmth!

Not even the Moon and her tears could shine on such a place, no.  
Not even the moon with her shining saviour light could save Snufkin when he would be dragged back.

He needs to leave Moominvalley.  
He needs to leave before he becomes too weak to fight.

\------

The forest with all its song sat dormant before the boy, shining chilling with winter glint.

The Moon sobbed and called, but like Snufkin she had no voice to use. She cried and sobbed on tears of stars washing waves of light so dim on oceans so high. Water black with waves so hight it washed the sun.

Snufkin stood before the forest with all its song, stood and looked into haunting eyes of glaciers unbridled.

He looked, and as morning dawn of soft winter death bathed all he had, he stepped.

Snufkin stepped one paw, and then the other, and he walked to the only place that could help him live.

Snufkin looked into the eyes of his death, and dove right in between.

Into the forest with all its song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, I know this is an angst fic about abuse, but I won't write any explicit scenes as I am uncomfortable doing so. This fic is about recovery, and some parts are improvised based on my own recovery.
> 
> Keep that in mind for future chapters, k?


	11. Squirrel and Mice taste better stewed

Quiet snow of flakes azure floated to and fro, falling off branches into what lain strewn on the floor.

Snufkin drooled at all he saw, smell what could help him live.

It was so close, but best to be wary.

Lurking in what Snufkin could only hope to assume, he knew the Joxter was watching.

He knew.

So Snufkin took what animals he could, and left, left the forest, with all its song, left it all behind.

So let it begin again.

Leaving quickly, lungs grown tight, trailing short breaths with animals of deathly blood.

Go home, oh little one, go away into the sound of your poor sobbing Moon. Heave air and make sound, cry to the Sun of what you have seen cry to the valley of too sweet air.

Cry to your home, cry to the valley that you have let see your heart. Too scared to leave, to scarred to stay you sit in the limbo of your mind.

The air of unseen can only but answer your calls oh cry oh cry, cry to all that see your limbo.

Lungs grown tight on air unheaved, air too rich, but perhaps air perfectly sweet.

The valley of too rich air  
The valley of air perfectly sweet.

The valley of people too kind  
The valley of small hospitality.

The valley that could never be safe  
The valley that was home.

Snufkin collapsed on the floor boards of the kitchen.

Squirrel and Mice taste better stewed.


	12. Family under the Moon

Sweet spring song of sick calamity sung its way through the valley, snow melt fresh and air warm.

The Moon and her tears sheltered the valley and all in its wake, smiling down upon the only one awake.

The small child, so tragic and weak, sat upon tiles of rooftop blue. They sat and sat, voice unheard, tears unshed.

The small mumrik, so delicate and scared, had not but shed a single tear for a month, and they could only call this apathy.

A tail of fur so sweetly seen swam in the air, back and forth, and back and forth, the arms of thorned vines sat rigid around a torso of air.

The night was so quiet, Snufkin could almost find himself relaxed, he had yet to relapse again like during the warm winter death, but he also had yet to bee under so much again.

It could almost be called peaceful, even with that mymble of a sister clamoring through the stairs of moomin house. Snufkin had yet to trust her, but love was something he had found.

Snufkin loved his sister My, he loved her and wanted her around. There was even that aching of her absence with winter's memories.

Snufkin wasn't sure where the attachment came from, and it was scary to find nothing but hope with her as family.

He didn't want it to happen, not again, not again.

"Snufkin, you weasel, there you are! Why is it always the roof?"  
My was up the stairs, quite honestly offened at the trek she had to reach him, why wasn't there at least a ladder to the roof?

No response, no voice to use yet.

"Right, sorry."

The jingle of a bell soothed Little My only a little, Snufkin was always away in other places in his mind.

Those places made him shake and sleepless and My wished he would stop going there, but one could not do much with the mind of another with out breaking trust.

My didn't want to loose her brother's trust, she had only just found him not too long ago.

Drapetomania sat in the air once again, the siblings on the rooftop of blue.

Under the Moon and her tears.


	13. Death and ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry school was annoying me

Soft sand of hot spring after dew swelled around Snufkin's toes as he trudged after his sister and more. Mama had wanted 'another' boat trip, and she decided her new family would not to be left behind.

Snufkin was to go on a boat, with people he hated and people he mistursted. People who were to not touch him, people who would bump into him. Snufkin was to go on a boat, to a far away island for a week with nothing but fear.

The small ship sat dormant, having apparently gotten upgrades from a Snork. Whatever a snork was, Snufkin was thankful to not care, the ship and all the luggage was his attention.

A vast sail, crows nest on top, pole down to the deck with room for paddles along the sides.

He hated it. Snufkin hated that boat, there was hardly the room for a few let alone the 7 of them.

Oh, why hadn't he prayed upon the Moon's breeze that he would not have to go?

\--------

Hot.

It was all too hot. Sweat tingled sweet down bodies and the sun became relentless. High noon staying for hours upon hours.

Snufkin had fled to the crows nest as the first word echoed. Too tired, too scared, to do much else. Chatter spat and blistered underneath him, boiling louder and louder and the fish splashed.

They fled, swimming and swimming away, the boat disturbing their life. They were just like the little scarred mumrik watching them, pulled from their life because of something big and terrible, forging a new path of death and ripples.

Death and ripples.

\---------

The island was vast, and dense. Its walls closed in.

Invisible walls of silent air and humid eyes, watching the boat board and tie up. Tie up tie up tie up. They watched as camp set up, and they watched when the fire started.

They watched as the fire grew in Snufkin's eyes, brighter and brighter, louder and louder.

Louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder  
louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder louder

And louder some more the fire grew.

It consumed him and consumed and consumed until he was but shaking, shaking and trembling they family could hear his breathing. Rushing in and out and in and out until he was just on the floor again.

Until he was on the ground as fire lapped and his unseen eyes.


	14. Spirals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'll take this book seriously!!
> 
> Also me: Doesn't proof read chapters, write then publishes, doesn't respond to the comments, hasnt actually watched the enitre show, didn't know there were books
> 
> Me: I'm so invested in this!!

The Moomin family sat quiet in the clearing of the campfire.

Snufkin had screamed.

And they had heard him.

The mumrik lay dormant on the ground, alseep and afraid, and the family that tried their best sat around him.

What a pity.

What a pity, it was that a life like Snufkin's had to exist. What a pity that there was no voice, no eyes to say what needed to be said. What a pity, it was, that now he lay there, alseep and afraid of a small fire.

What a pity, that scars can't be erased.  
Because if one tried to rid Snufkin of scars, they would have to take his body.

The heat had long since made him forcefully abandon his soft coat, it sat sadly at the house, the fabric of the under tunic was all he had.

Such short sleves, that tunic had, it showed everything.

Vines wrapping his freckles white agaisnt tan, thorns upon thorns till what was skin and what was scarred?

The little mumrik, unseen but temporarily heard, had too much damage, indeed perhaps too much, to make Moomins wonder.

Could poor little Snufkin be fixed at all?

\-------

Figures danced and laughed and laughed, circling and circling. Could they close in any faster?

The ground was the sky and the sky was the sea, endless circles and squares, turning glaring halting moving.

Shaky paws of hazelnut fur grasped at soft green coats, fur shook and breath white.

He was back.

Snufkin was back.


	15. Eight nights and seven days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things change little by little

Upon three nights and three days, the little frail mumrik child sat alseep.

Was he alseep at all?

Perhaps he died, perhaps he lived, who could tell? Who could not.

The family had stayed on the island, as they would the rest of the week, plans stayed and they were anxious about the heat of the boat on the unconscious boy.

My wouldn't leave him.

Moomin wasn't sure how to get her to move, she needed to, she needed to eat lest she get sickly.

Mama tried to reason "Oh My, Snufkin would want you healthy when he wakes!"

She sat there. For three days; for three nights.

One year and two months the mumrik was with them, what little progress. What little indeed.

How could one not blame themselves? My had been rude, had been scheming upon her brothers arrival, a brother she hadn't yet met.

Her heart had cracked and the ice remained but only a spot for Snuf melted what little he could.

"My come and eat, the boy will be fine where he is. We will know when he wakes." Papa was only but peeking at where My sat. Alone and upset.

Alone and upset.

\-----------

The night had lit up, and the far away fire crackled and spat. The light glowed on what was visible of Snufkin. It shined and, quite frankly, Moomin was happy he had come atleast this far.

Forearms and tail, feet indeed too, glowed with hazelnut fur leading to tan, freckled and scarred.

Snufkin, to Moomin, was quite beautiful. There was no love, no none at all, but only admiration at what strength the mumrik possesed.

The troll was weak, soft and white. But the mumrik was strong, scrawny metal and scarred. Two so different and not the good friends, Snufkin only seemed at ease with My.

Moomin was unaware of the familial bond, as was everyone else. Snorkmaiden knew not, nor did Mama and Papa. Sniff didn't care, though neither did he ignore.

My was long since asleep, she passed out upon dinner. Too much fasting, too much fatigue. She lain right next to her secret brother, she couldn't leave him, not just yet.

\-----------

The faces and eyes, white and black ran faster and faster. Or perhaps he was just running faster and faster?

The one was behind him and the forest of changing paths before him.

Fog left his mouth, visible in the moon.

Why must winter never leave this place?

The faces and eyes, running faster and faster, called his name and he could feel its hands.

"Welcome home, Snufkin"

\---------

Three nights and four days.

My didn't think he'd wake up at all.

Three nights and four days.

The noon hellfire rained down, the tent soaked. Mama took his temperature, he was seemingly getting colder.

Only My noticed his ankle coming to view. It was bloody red.

Four nights and four days.

He screamed in his sleep last night, so Little My went to curl up on his chest. Sometimes she so deeply reminded Moomin of a cat.

Four nights and four days.

Mama was suprised and the flowers that suddenly grew overnight outside the tent.

Seeds spilled out of the bloody ankle, still no one noticed the new part.

Five nights and four days.

Flowers bloomed everywhere, Snorkmaiden was happy, and made flower crowns. She placed them on Moomin's, My's, and, carefully, on Snufkin's head.

Five nights and five days.

The flowers turned to frost, and then dust.

Papa demanded they leaved right then and there. He didn't want to have to wait for Snufkin to wake on a cursed island.

Six nights and five days.

The family left, Snufkin gently lain on Mama's lap. The water lapped the empty frost shore.

Six nights and five days.

The family returned, the land hot and the air wet. They left the boat on the dock, and inside to home. Snorkmaiden went home.

Six nights and six days.

Snufkin screamed again, and My on his supposed chest didn't srop his strange thrashing this time.

He called out words in a language no one understood and begged pleas with haphazard ease.

Mama feared his chanting, and so she closed his door, unknowing on what to do.

She resulted to her grandmother's book. No recipie resided that fit what was happening.

Seven nights, and six days.

Snufkin curled himself on his sister. He was neither awake nor asleep. Papa sat and cried for wished him not to die.

Eight nights and seven days.

Snufkin remianed deathly quiet, but not deathtly cold. He was getting warmer, his heart harder.

Eight nights and eight days, Snufkin sat upon his bed, breathing breathes that made sound.

No word spoken but one understood.

"Hello."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, slightly longer chapter because I'm not sure when I'll post the next one. But do know the next chapter *will not* cover what Snufkin dreamed. Thats for another time ;)


	16. Window Sills for afternoon naps

The child sat gently on their bed, bell hung and hat worn.

The two things that lasted the longest, both dull and muted.

The golden embroidery was fading and ripping, the bell without ring, thunking and tinkng against its walls.

It was silent.

Snufkin didn't like the silent. Silent was white, drowning and glowing. You couldn't sleep and you could see all your horrors in white.

He much preferred black, because in black, you could sleep. It was warm in black, and it was soft and quiet. Not silent, but quiet.

They were very different things, after all.

Silence was dead, quiet was soft noises like Mama's clinking or Papa's smoking.

Quiet, but there.

Snufkin wasn't sure what time it was anymore, wasn't sure if he, for once, cared about the time at all. But there he was, curtains closed and lights off, in the terribly silent room.

There was blood in himself, and blood on himself.

He, for once, didn't care a bit. Just another scar on his arm, on his back.

On his legs  
On his neck

Scrapping jagged lines down his abdomen; thorned vines, his limbs. It covered his neck, his back, words and curses, scratches and lines.

Everywhere, he was tainted everywhere. Would there be a time when Snufkin could look at himself, visible and seen, and not hate his body?

His paws faded in color.

Could he ever hear himself and not cringe at his frightfully weak self?

The paws were gone.

Could he ever go out, alone, and not fear the unknown? Not fear the forest or the once lovely grove that was now eternally winter?

Sprouts on the floorboards, sprouts in his arms.

Could he ever not wake up screaming?

The hat fell from Snufkin's head. There was no thud, for it was weightless. There was no thud in his heart when he realised he would live to drop the same.

Weightless, and alone, and so very, very obviously, invisible.

His arms bled from invisible paws, dripping invisible blood onto his invisible lap, tears trailing down his invisible face, landing on an invisible tail, thumping and dropping, thumping and dropping, no sound, not a peep, echoless and without meaning, thumping in his heart and thumping in his head, colorless and meaningless.

He was visible to all but himself, and he could only hear himself cry.

One year.

One year of this valley, of kind people and good homes.

One year of warm food and pity smiles.

One year without that mumrik, without the horrible, terrible, mumrik.

He didn't deserve it.

So Snufkin sat surrounded in his invisible blood, oh so very visible.

\---------

It was four in the morning when Snufkin found the time, he was still bleeding.

From his arms, from his legs.

That didn't mean much, it always took hours for him to stop bleeding. He was too weak, too malnourished.

The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was anemic, mama said that word a lot, but he didn't know what it meant.

Maybe he was 'anemic' maybe that's why he never stopped bleeding.

Never stopped bleeding.

It was five in the morning, and Snufkin sat on the open window sill.

It was becoming full spring, middle spring, no longer cold.

No longer winter

\------------

'Welcome home, Snufkin.'

Breathing was heavy.

'Where had you run off to?'

It was so very real.

'You left without permission again, you could've gotten hurt.'

Someone was shaking him, drowning him.

Drowning Snufkin in something, whatever it was. It came from everywhere.

A scream ripped his throat and whatever shook him sprang away, he was on the window sill.

And Moomin and My looked rather scared.


	17. Harmonica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, as much as i didn't say anything on the previous chapter, I am sorry about the unplanned break in the winter month between chapters. I have begun to feel a little unmotivated so im gonns finish this work up soon and maybe comeback and make a sequel to it if i feel better motivated after ending it.

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and the little mumrik would jump off a cliff before leaving his window sill to find out what.

Then again, jumping off a cliff didn't sound too bad at this moment, considering how he felt.

Sprouts came through the floorboards again, "a penny for your thoughts? You haven't eaten since yesturday, and you only ate then because Moomin made you. He worries for you, you know."

That was all that was said, all that was needed. The pitter patter and door made her known.

Voice soft as ever, yet the sarcasm never left.

My simply sat there with her brother, and didn't look at him.

She didn't look at the vines that had wrapped themselves around her brother's arms, and she didn't look at the branches that made their home in the walls, or the ones that lined the window.

She didn't look at the wrangled mess of her barley visible brother, or the dried blood and cuts that lined his thorned scars.

My didn't need to, she already knew it would happen, when that scream shrunk her back, she already knew after Snufkin woke up, after he said things and holed himself away.

So she sat with him in silence, hoping to make it quiet.

'At least,' she thought, 'at least he hasn't faded away completely.'

And it was true. Snufkin's arms and tail sat there, his paws transparent and legs poorly seen.

The bell around his neck, the hat on his head. The tunic he put on in swealtering heat, and todays flower crown from Snorkmaiden.

Daffodil, yellow lilies, and gardenia. She was getting better at learning the flowers language.

If only.

"Snuf," started My, "Snuf I know you don't want to get up or face anyone or say anything or touch anyone, but Mama wants you downstairs. Something of yours popped up on the porch sometime last night. She wants to know if its actually yours or not."

There wasn't a response, My didn't expect one, she didn't want one either, she didn't want to have to hear her brother's voice cracking.

She really didn't.

Instead Snufkin just held his hand out for her and let himself out his infected room. His sister led him down the stairs to the kitchen full of prying eyes, and sat with him on that little chair pulled out just for him.

And there his heart froze is his chest and his eyes blanked out and hands went limp. And there My shook him and cried and asked for him back, only to be ignored on favour of that little wretched thing that lay on the table.

Snufkin's little harmonica, stained with his own blood, from his own tears and bruises and dented walls from his body slamming them,

And screams and shouts that rang in that winter forest of dead things and monstrous things,

And slaps and punches to his arms and those heeled boots to his ribs, and those claws down his back and the burns on his face and the knives on his legs and that whip on everywhere and everywhere and the blurs of food shoved at him,

And the water chocked down and the hands everywhere abd everywhere and, and,

And that bright and happy dead night where those metal clangs snapped at him and crushed his leg and slowed him down,

And those arms that grabbed him and chocked him with that necklace harmonica,

And the string that snapped and the kicks he threw,

And his hazy vision and blood trail that became unseen and his body that became unseen,

And everything else that became unseen.

\----------

There in the kitchen lain,

With families of trolls and mymble little things,

There in the kitchen,

The little mumrik fled,

Leaving behind,

A shredded hat of torn embroidery, 

And a bell that was no longer tinkling.

And on that table,

In the kitchen it lays,

A harmonica covered in blood and pain.

\--------

The warm snow and dying sprouts gave way to the small little grove of dying seasons.

And there that little, barely visible mumrik sat, fading oh so quickly.

If only he could feel the air he had, or thr clamy hands making their way to his horrible face, or the tail the hit itself harder and harder against the stumps of his dying trees.

But he didn't, he hasn't, and he will continue to not feel this torment of body and mind. All he felt were those quiet spring tunes and warm fear that played in his head as sick little plays.

Snufkin's little spring harmonica tunes


End file.
